


folks are travelin'

by tekuates



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Eve, DeanCas Secret Santa Gift Exchange, First Kiss, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-11
Updated: 2014-01-11
Packaged: 2018-01-08 09:39:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1131086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tekuates/pseuds/tekuates
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean would classify the sudden change in the atmosphere of the room as “inexplicably tense”, and decides to follow the time-honored Winchester way and ignore it.</p><p>Written for the Dean/Cas Secret Santa Fic Exchange on Tumblr for sammytheboyking.</p>
            </blockquote>





	folks are travelin'

The Christmas lights wrapped around the tree are dim, old. A few bulbs are flickering, close to dead, but so far they’re holding out. Which is what you get when you pick up lights at a garage sale, but Sam doesn’t look mad that Dean, as usual, cheaped out. His face is childlike, almost awed, as he stares at the lights, soft colors lighting his features. He doesn’t say anything sappy, probably knowing that Dean would brush it off; instead he gives Dean a half-smile and strides from the room. A moment later he’s back, hands full presents wrapped in real, honest-to-god wrapping paper, which probably shouldn’t seem so amazing.

“How’s Cas?” Dean asks as Sam crouches, arranging the presents underneath the tree.

“Seems a lot more solid after some rest. Actually, I think he’s sleeping again now.”

Dean nods. “Probably good.” A flickering light catches an ornament just right and sends a spark of reflection his way. Sam stand and stretches, his back cracking in what sounds like a satisfying way.

“I’m gonna hit the sack,” Sam says.

“Probably do that in a bit myself,” Dean says amiably, since Sam is a dork who still worries about things like whether Dean gets enough sleep. Sam gives him another smile and ambles out of the room, and a moment later Dean hears his footsteps on the stairs.

It’s snowing, Dean thinks, but he’s not entirely sure. He doesn’t get up from the couch he’s lounging on to check, though, just lets the soft dull strings of lights and the dim glint of the tinsel lull him into contentment. He slouches a little more and burrows further into the sweatshirt he stole from Sam a while ago. Definitely cold enough to snow.

“Dean?” The voice is too rough to be Sam’s, too hesitant.

“Cas?” Dean sits up straight. Cas appears in the doorway, shoulders wrapped in the thick comforter he and Sam had found in a trunk somewhere. He’s wearing a plain t-shirt that’s probably Dean’s, and sweatpants that are definitely Sam’s, given that they’re about a foot too long for him. His eyes are shadowed with the kind of bone-deep exhaustion Dean knows too well, and his hair is even more tousled than it usually is.

“Hey, man, how’re you doing?” Dean asks.

Cas looks around the room in a bemused sort of way. “Better,” he says absently. “Why is there a tree in here?”

“It’s a Christmas tree, how can you not know about Christmas, Cas?”

“Ah,” Cas says. “Yes, I have heard of this tradition.” He comes over and sits on the couch next to Dean. “As well as the tradition of gift-giving.”

“Reminds me,” Dean says, and pulls his plastic bag of presents from under the edge of the couch and brings it over to the tree. “Thought Sammy would never go upstairs. I even got something for you here,” he adds over his shoulder as he puts the presents under the tree. He turns back to Cas, who doesn’t exactly look happy at this announcement.

“What’s wrong?” Dean asks.

“I – “Cas hesitates, “I have nothing I can give you.”

Dean laughs before he thinks not to. “I didn’t – don’t worry about it, man. Cas. Having you alive is just fine as Christmas miracles go, no one expected you to magically have presents to give when you’ve been homeless for the past – “ he waves a hand vaguely “ – whatever.” Dean sits back down next to Castiel. “Don’t worry about it,” he says, and gives Cas a reassuring squeeze on the knee, since his top half is swaddled in blanket.

Dean would classify the sudden change in the atmosphere of the room as “inexplicably tense”, and decides to follow the time-honored Winchester way and ignore it. He chances a look at Castiel, though, in case Dean somehow pissed him off. But Cas is smiling at him, that not-quite-a-smile smile, and his eyes are warm. And Dean thinks, _well_ , and _should I_ , and then abandons any notion of control over this suddenly terrifying, exhilarating, nerve-wracking situation and smiles back, helplessly, and doesn’t look away.

Cas shifts, shrugging off the comforter, and moves closer to Dean. He reaches out and his fingertips graze the inside of Dean’s wrist, shy, barely a touch. Dean pushes into the touch, just a little, and his hands are shaking. Cas’s fingers start tracing, slowly, over the tendons in his wrist, back and forth and back and forth.

“I saw Sam coming down with his gifts,” Cas says. “Why did you wait until he was upstairs to put yours out?”

Dean breathes out, a long, shuddering breath. “Uh,” he says. “it’s just, uh, from when we were little, Sam always liked it when the presents were kind of just there Christmas morning, you know? Like they’d appeared overnight Christmas Eve. Kid loved Christmas, still does.”

“And you?” Cas asks, and Dean doesn’t remember either of them moving closer but they’re sitting thigh to thigh, turned in to each other and Dean’s world has narrowed to Cas’s hand on his. Dean, without quite believing he’s doing it, stops the movement of Cas’s hand and interlaces their fingers.

“I like it fine,” Dean says, and his voice catches a little on the edges.

“So is that – tonight, then?” Cas’s voice is softer than Dean has ever heart it. Dean tilts his head a little and it would just take a few inches, six at the most. So he thinks _fuck it_ and kisses Cas, one hand on his jaw, closemouthed and clumsy and sweet, and it feels like Dean’s skin is lighting up everywhere. He pulls away after a couple seconds and rests his forehead on Cas’s shoulder. His hands have not stopped shaking even a little bit.

“Is – “ Dean clears his throat, “is what tonight?”

“Christmas Eve,” Castiel says, and Dean can feel his voice rumble through his body, Jesus.

“Yeah,” Dean says, kisses Cas again, draws back. “Yeah, it is.”

It’s become imperative for Dean to get as close to Cas as physically possible. He pushes Cas gently horizontal on the couch, then grabs the abandoned blanket and flops down next to Cas. Cas wriggles until his back is to Dean, and Dean fits himself around Cas, twines their legs together.

They fall asleep like that, and Dean wakes up to see Kevin looking at him, hair sleep-messy, in a _well-finally_ kind of way, Sam smiling at them, huge and goofy, Cas rubbing his eyes and giving Dean an entirely different kind of smile. Dean tries to glower at Sam, and then at Kevin, and it slides right off his face so he just smiles at all three of them and feels like his skin is glowing.

“Merry Christmas,” Sam says.


End file.
